Do-Overs (14 page)

-32-

A Watched Phone Never Rings

There was a lot of time to think the next week, as I sure wasn’t spending it on the phone. He didn’t call. Looking back, I started to realize how many chances I’d had to get to know Al Dansby, but for my fear of ever looking foolish I had changed time and missed opportunities. And I was still doing it. I saw him three more times on campus, but dodged him with my mini time machine. I just couldn’t face him knowing he knew that I had texted him and he hadn’t texted me back. I felt so sixth grade.

It had been a full two weeks since my enchanted evening when Olivia, Stina and Rachel came into my room all dressed in black like burglars.

“Hey, I know tuition is high, but I didn’t know that y’all had taken on an illegal profession to make ends meet,” I said looking at them bewildered.

“We’ve been on a reconnaissance mission. We’re ninja spies,” announced Stina, pulling some leaves from her hair and then striking her best ninja pose.

“What?”

Olivia pulled out her iPhone. “We’ve decided something had to be done about this Dansby business. You’re obviously not getting over him.”

“That’s for sure,” said Stina.

Rachel added her clinical diagnosis. “You have been extremely despondent lately.”

I didn’t think I had been that bad. In fact I had been making a special point of not sighing loudly and only sniffled in the shower.

Stina added, “We decided to do an intervention.”

“What?” That was all my poor befuddled brain could come up with.

“We have been monitoring Al Dansby’s movements for the past two days,” said Stina. I felt like I was watching a very low budget
Mission Impossible
.

“Point one—we found out,” said Olivia reading from her iPhone screen. “He does not live on campus. Thus, the reason for not seeing him in the cafeteria. We did observe that he eats there on Wednesdays, due to a schedule conflict that keeps him from being able to leave campus for lunch.”

“I found that out from La—ah. She works the lunch shift at the cafeteria this semester. I also found out he favors mystery meat over salads, but likes tacos best,” Stina said so proud of her super sleuth abilities.

“He owns a condo,” said Rachel not to be outdone. “Did you get that?
Owns
a condo four blocks away. I Googled to find that.”

“Ladies, this is almost scary. Doesn’t this count as stalking? Isn’t that illegal?” I asked trying my best to sound like I objected, but really hoped that they had found out why he hadn’t called.

“Not if he doesn’t notice,” said Olivia back in General mode. “Currently he is in the play that starts in four weeks, so every evening this week he has been at play practice.”

Stina held up her hand to speak. “He’s playing Lt. Cable. I snuck in to watch the practice. He sure can sing.”

Olivia consulted her IPhone again. “Here’s the most important info we’ve uncovered so far. He broke his cell phone.”

“Yeah, we got that from Butch,” chimed in Stina.

“Butch thought it was so funny. Al told him he had been carrying his phone everywhere because he was expecting an important call,” Rachel was saying, when Stina interrupted, “That would be your call! He was waiting for your call!”

“But,” Rachel resumed telling the story, “he went to grab for a call and dropped it in the toilet!”

“Just like someone did my diamond earrings,” said Olivia through gritted teeth.

Rachel held her hands up as the peacemaker, “Let it go Olivia. We got them out. Fortunately there was no pee in the toilet so they were just fine after we sanitized them.

“Back to the matter at hand. Al told Butch who told Stina and me that Al is from California and his phone was on a plan from there so he had to get his dad to get him a new phone and his dad was out of the country for work and once he got ahold of him getting a new one seemed to deal with something to do with overnight shipping and losing all his phone numbers and text messages.”

Olivia was back in charge. “So you see, he never got your message.”

We all sat there for a solid two minutes no one saying a word. Three hopeful faces stared at me. Finally I spoke as if in a trance. “He never got my message.”

“Nope, never,” they all three said with Stina nodding like some crazy bobble head doll in the back of a car going down a dirt road.

I had been such an idiot with that stupid eraser. If I hadn’t made sure that he didn’t see me all this time, he could have told me all this himself, without the
Get Smart
crew having to go into action.

“General Corazon, Sir.” I saluted and asked, “What is our plan of attack?

-33-

You Say Stalking,

I say Conveniently Located

Deodorant ads lie. It did not turn up a degree when my pits—and the rest of me—were totally stressing as I tried to get up the nerve to enter the theater door. I would have turned around ten different times and left if three ninja stalkers hadn’t been hiding in the bushes forcing me to proceed. Five times I contemplated using my fickle eraser. But the track record so far on my trusty friend wasn’t so perfect. Yes, sometimes it had gotten me out of extremely humiliating situations. But, it had also allowed me to miss so many opportunities to get to know Al Dansby and who knows what else.

Two deep breaths, and no do-overs. I was off to see this encounter through whether it worked out for a happily-ever-after or just the crushing end to a dream that was just beginning.

Okay, maybe three deep breaths. Four. Oh, I was getting lightheaded. I heard a rustling from the bush patrol. “Get in there now,” came the order from Commander Corazon.

I made my way to lurking in the empty dark back row of the theater. There were a few actors still on stage, but practice seemed to be over.

“Who’s up for the Coffee Corner?” came a voice from backstage.

Different replies of “I can’t. Got to go study.” and “Sure wait for me.” came from different areas of the stage.

“How about you, Taylor?” asked Butch as he walked on stage.

Taylor looked around expectantly until her vision locked on a lone figure sitting at the rehearsal piano on the far apron of the stage. “Are you going, Al?” she asked in her disgustin
gly
purry voice walking over to him and ruffling his amazing hair. My knees turned to Jello. My heart felt like I was running a marathon and green, jealousy steam was coming out of my ears. How was I going to rectify the cell phone/text message debacle if he went to coffee with her? Was I right after all? Had he not called because he had already moved on?

“Not tonight,” came the melodious voice of my quest.

In your face, Taylor of the long perfect legs. He doesn’t want to go out with you. I was practically doing the happy dance in the back of the theater.

“I have a paper to write. Give me a rain check, okay?” the beautiful voice continued. My happy dance wasn’t quite as perky anymore.

A war was going on inside my poor cranium as Taylor left the stage with the rest of the cast and crew through the backdoor. He had just said he had a paper to do. He had asked my archrival for a rain check. Did anyone really say rain check? And how could he make it sound so sexy to say such an antiquated phrase? Analyzing every detail of the past two and a half minutes, trying desperately to decide whether to go forward with our plan of attack or call a strategic retreat, I heard someone near the doorway clearing her throat. “If you don’t get your skinny butt up there right now and talk to him, I’m gonna come in there and grab your boney hand and drag you up there myself,” came La—ah’s forceful whisper through the door. The ninjas must have called for reinforcements.

During all the various and drastically different conversations that had been taking place, Al had sat alone at the rehearsal piano, randomly playing bits and pieces of different tunes.

Four steps down. I hesitated. I had never realized what a huge auditorium it was. I was groping for the handrail, trying not to miss a step in the dimly lit room. The only lights on in the vast room were a few working lights on the stage. I heard La—ah clear her throat again. I took five more steps. I felt like I was playing some eccentric form of Mother May I, hoping for a yes you may, not a go back to the beginning. More throat clearing. It was starting to sound like a tuberculosis ward in the hallway. I had to speed things up.

Al began a new tune. One that gave me hope. He had very slowly morphed into “Maybe,” from
Annie.
Maybe he hadn’t given up on me. Maybe he still thought of me. Or maybe it was just a very catchy tune that got stuck in your head and wouldn’t go away. I was hoping for option one or two. It gave me the courage to make it to the apron of the stage.

That’s when I tripped over someone’s book bag in the floor of the first row and whacked my head against the edge of the stage.

-34-

How Romantic, Just Me &Al

And Stina, Rachel, Olivia, and La—ah

“Lottie, are you okay?” said an angelic voice. Had I died and gone to heaven? Or had I just knocked myself out being the klutz queen of OkMU?

Option B, of course.

“Stina, call 911,” came the command from the General.

“She’s coming around,” said Al. “Lottie, can you hear me? Are you okay?”

“The Godmother’s outside. We should take her to the hospital,” came Rachel’s decisive voice.

All I could see was Al Dansby’s face, actually three of them, staring down at me. Bliss. All three Als looked so concerned. How nice. My brain wasn’t working. I kept trying to say I was fine. Instead, I just kept looking at Al. He was down to two faces. Finally there was only one.

“Hospital. Now,” decided Al.

“Looks like she tripped over some moron’s bag,” said La—ah.

“That would be mine,” said a very guilty knight in shinning armor. My brain kept saying that’s okay. But my mouth wasn’t in on the act. Instead, I just mumbled something incoherent. I wasn’t sure if it was the brain injury making me unable to talk or being so close to the man of my dreams. If ever I should have done something over that was the time. But my brain wasn’t only not talking to my mouth, it was on the outs with my hands too. I had dropped my purse a few feet away, and I couldn’t reach it even if my body parts were speaking to each other.

“Can you bring my stuff?” Al asked. “I’ll get Lottie. She needs to see a doctor and fast. Brain injuries should be taken seriously.” With that he lifted me up. Wow. If my brain could have functioned, I would have been worried that I had something major wrong with me, or that he would think I was too heavy, too fat. Instead, all I could think was how romantic. He just swooped down and picked me up like Rhett and Scarlett. And off we went to our chariot of love. Or Rachel’s beat up old Ford Windstar commonly known as “da Godmother.” At least there was room for all of us, including the ninja force. We even had room for Chuck Norris, but he didn’t show up.

***

“I’m okay. Really,” I finally was able to say when we reached the emergency room doors.

No one believed me.

“You’re seeing a doctor,” said Rachel.

“We’re not having you die on us like that beautiful movie star lady who hit the tree skiing,” said Stina.

La—ah joined in, “Never take a brain injury lightly.” And the discussion was on about all the famous and not so famous people, including La—ah’s Great Aunt Beatrice, who died from unattended brain trauma. The fact that she was ninety-seven didn’t play into the equation, or so the story went. I only half listened. Al carried me from the car to the hospital entrance. I could walk for myself by then. But why? Here was the world’s most amazing guy willing to carry me. And he smelled so good. I’d enjoy the ride while it lasted. A nurse with a wheelchair met us at the door and the glorious ride was over.

***

After an hour of waiting, x-rays and me begging them not to call my mom and have her come, the conclusion was a concussion. No need to stay in the hospital. No treatment unless I displayed more symptoms. Sometime during the evening Rachel was allowed to go back in the treatment room and had become my surrogate mother. The doctor gave her the list of signs to look for and put her in charge.

It was well after midnight when we all piled back into da Godmother and headed back to campus. I was delighted to see that while I had been back with the doctors Al had remained with the rest of the ninja force.

“Al, put on your seatbelt. Nobody rides in da Godmother without proper restraint,” said Rachel.

“Oh, sorry. I don’t know why, I’m horrid at remembering to use a seatbelt. Thanks.”

Restraint seemed to be the theme for what was supposed to have been an Enchanted Evening. In no way had this turned out to be the romantic interlude of all our strategic planning. Just Al and me—and Stina and Rachel and Olivia and La—ah in the world’s oldest minivan with Sonic and QuikTrip trash at our feet. No intimate moment to share our deep passionate feelings. I felt like I was on a rerun of
Big Love
.

“Can you drop me at the theater?” asked Al. “I need to pick up my car.”

Fail.

As we cruised into the back parking lot of the theater building, Al began to gather his evil book bag. Obviously, he was looking to make a quick escape the moment da Godmother came out of warp speed.

The car stopped. No one moved. Four ninjas tried to melt into the upholstery in order to give us some privacy.

“Hum, Lottie,” Al looked at me expectantly. Here it came. He would ask me out—or propose. No probably not propose. He’d save that for a real date. He looked at me with beseeching eyes. He wanted something that only I could give. He spoke again. “Um, I need to get out your door. This one doesn’t work.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

I opened the only sliding door that worked and crawled out of the middle row seat so that he and his book bag could get through. As I turned to get back in the van, he took my elbow and turned me to look at him.

“I’m really, really sorry that I left my ridiculous book bag on the floor and made you trip.” He paused. There was that mischievous little boy smile again, like he knew he was going to time-out, but hoping to charm his way out of it. “Do you think. . . that maybe. . . we could go on a proper date? No emergency room and,” he glanced back over his shoulder, “no ninjas?”

All I could do was nod my head. Ouch that hurt, but it was worth it.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“You don’t have my number.” I was panicked.

“I do now. Olivia gave it to me on a note while you were in the emergency room. Rachel gave it to me on an index card. And Stina jotted it down for me on the back of a hygiene pamphlet. Oh and La—ah wrote it on my arm.” He pulled up his sleeve to show my number written in big black Sharpie reaching from his wrist to his elbow. “Don’t worry, I won’t lose you. . . I mean your number.”